Liviabon
A place to feel, discover, dream, be heard and become.
A place of poetry.
Biased Luck by Simone River
Note from the poet: , I was told I'm just lucky, I stopped to realized that from one side it seems like unbridled luck but they dont see the other side where luck was opportunity borne in despair and harvested through discipline and consistency.
Biased Luck by Simone River
Note from the poet: , I was told I'm just lucky, I stopped to realized that from one side it seems like unbridled luck but they dont see the other side where luck was opportunity borne in despair and harvested through discipline and consistency.
Overgrown Weeds by Marie-Françoise Pierlot
Note from the poet: Sometimes who we are isnt good enough, its deemed unworthy by others and they whisper sweet lies into our ears... the worst part is we believe them and we deem ourselves overgrown weeds.
Overgrown Weeds by Marie-Françoise Pierlot
Note from the poet: Sometimes who we are isnt good enough, its deemed unworthy by others and they whisper sweet lies into our ears... the worst part is we believe them and we deem ourselves overgrown weeds.
Waltz of Pain by Sydney Murlow
Note from the poet: An illustarion of modern dating during a time where stability was not rare but common. A creative endeavor of my own experiences and those I have observed.
Waltz of Pain by Sydney Murlow
Note from the poet: An illustarion of modern dating during a time where stability was not rare but common. A creative endeavor of my own experiences and those I have observed.
A Broken Anchor by Johannes Pückler
Note from the poet: Often, I find myself asking questions to myself, about the unstable part of myself that might make me look like I am well put together but sometimes, those parts that ground me fail to hold me. The broken anchor. Paradox.
A Broken Anchor by Johannes Pückler
Note from the poet: Often, I find myself asking questions to myself, about the unstable part of myself that might make me look like I am well put together but sometimes, those parts that ground me fail to hold me. The broken anchor. Paradox.
Caution to the Wind by Sidwell Chrome
Note from the poet: I asked why write a poem when you can write one by not writing one with written biases. Arthur Ludwig says "Until you understand the complexity of a single word, you can never fathom the simplicity of a single sentence".
Caution to the Wind by Sidwell Chrome
Note from the poet: I asked why write a poem when you can write one by not writing one with written biases. Arthur Ludwig says "Until you understand the complexity of a single word, you can never fathom the simplicity of a single sentence".
The Euphemism of Hope by Amon Hassan
The Euphemism of Hope by Amon Hassan
The Second Goodbye by Marie-Françoise Pierlot
Note from the poet: Goodbye is such an easy word to say but sometimes there is a depth needed to understand that when it leaves, something else must take its place. Whether it is forgiveness and acceptance or regret and illusion.
The Second Goodbye by Marie-Françoise Pierlot
Note from the poet: Goodbye is such an easy word to say but sometimes there is a depth needed to understand that when it leaves, something else must take its place. Whether it is forgiveness and acceptance or regret and illusion.
What is Your Soul Worth? by Johannes Pückler
Note from the poet: I tend to ask myself what is my soul worth? I could never find a solid answer, maybe because I wanted it to be one dimensional but what if it was more than that?
What is Your Soul Worth? by Johannes Pückler
Note from the poet: I tend to ask myself what is my soul worth? I could never find a solid answer, maybe because I wanted it to be one dimensional but what if it was more than that?
Cradle of the Heart by Arthur
Note from the poet: We all need a place to rest when our heart and soul gets weary. I wrote this for someone I genuinely loved because as she is nurturer, I asked who nurtures her? I realized that we all need a place that brings us back to us.
Cradle of the Heart by Arthur
Note from the poet: We all need a place to rest when our heart and soul gets weary. I wrote this for someone I genuinely loved because as she is nurturer, I asked who nurtures her? I realized that we all need a place that brings us back to us.
What is Love? by Sydney Murlow
Note from the poet: Love has always been a complicated conversation to have, the more you understand perspectives you realize that it is subjective. Love is love, but what is love to you? Find your meaning in a world defined by others.
What is Love? by Sydney Murlow
Note from the poet: Love has always been a complicated conversation to have, the more you understand perspectives you realize that it is subjective. Love is love, but what is love to you? Find your meaning in a world defined by others.
The Broke Art of Tradition by Sidwell Chrome
Note from the poet: Everything heals yet tradition stays the same, it caries the same scars, the same trauma and it masquerades as wisdom. Who will teach tradition to heal? Who will tell it that it's broken?
The Broke Art of Tradition by Sidwell Chrome
Note from the poet: Everything heals yet tradition stays the same, it caries the same scars, the same trauma and it masquerades as wisdom. Who will teach tradition to heal? Who will tell it that it's broken?
Goodbye Monster by Sidwell Chrome
Note from the poet: Sometimes the parts that we fear most are ourselves. The shackles that bound us, ourselves. The monster we fear most, the unhealed inner child who dons a mask to hide his tears.
Goodbye Monster by Sidwell Chrome
Note from the poet: Sometimes the parts that we fear most are ourselves. The shackles that bound us, ourselves. The monster we fear most, the unhealed inner child who dons a mask to hide his tears.
The Parking Ticket by Jason Slavo
Note from the poet: There are moments in life where comfort gets the better of us, where silence feels like home yet the timing for that has long passed but we linger and let opportunities pass by. The parking ticket, the reminder to go.
The Parking Ticket by Jason Slavo
Note from the poet: There are moments in life where comfort gets the better of us, where silence feels like home yet the timing for that has long passed but we linger and let opportunities pass by. The parking ticket, the reminder to go.
Sweet Nothingness by Arthur P. Walker
Note from the poet: Oblivion. Would it feel like the beginning of death and the end of birth? Oblivion became that just that, it is not a circumstance, a feeling, a moment, it is humanity in all of its creation.
Oblivion is the cycle of life.
Sweet Nothingness by Arthur P. Walker
Note from the poet: Oblivion. Would it feel like the beginning of death and the end of birth? Oblivion became that just that, it is not a circumstance, a feeling, a moment, it is humanity in all of its creation.
Oblivion is the cycle of life.
A place to feel, discover, dream, be heard and become.
A place of poetry.
A place to feel, discover, dream, be heard and become.
A place of poetry.